


til the sun strikes through.

by redhoods



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-08
Updated: 2013-03-08
Packaged: 2017-12-04 16:54:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/712969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redhoods/pseuds/redhoods
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Except this is different, because this beautiful boy isn’t just a boy, he’s a god. Marble carved and Stygian iron willed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	til the sun strikes through.

**Author's Note:**

> there is a blatant abuse of richard siken and greek mythology, for which i apologize.

_You’re in a car with a beautiful boy_ and all you can think of is that goddamn poem in that goddamn book at Jehan’s. And it’s a disappointment that makes your chest feel tight, because you are in a car with a beautiful boy. Except this is different, because this beautiful boy isn’t just a boy, he’s a god. Marble carved and Stygian iron willed.

Because you know these things, things about gods and Stygian iron and marble statues.

And it’s not different just because he’s a god - as though that’s not enough. This is different because this boy isn’t trying to keep from telling you that he loves you, because he doesn’t love you.

In fact, you’re certain he hates you and that’s okay, because sometimes you hate you, too.

But you love him. You really do. In the most reckless way possible, the most self destructive way possible. Because there’s no way you’d reach him. 

You’d be Icarus, reaching for the unattainable sun, only for your wings to burn up, because they aren’t real wings and because you’d never have real wings.

And you’d plummet and drop lower than you already were and he wouldn’t stoop to your level, wouldn’t climb down from his mighty perch.

Wouldn’t create a flower for your spilt blood, because you’re not a hero, you’re not beautiful, you’re not worthy of it.

It’s a Fact of Life. You accepted it when you were younger, when not even your parents had the time to grace you with their presence, not that their presence was even worth much, but maybe things would be different if they had.

That’s just another Fact of Life, a thing you can’t change, so why try?

You don’t try, not even for this beautiful boy next to you and that’s why he hates you, because you don’t try for something you know won’t happen.

And he’s ever oblivious to you, sitting next to him, fingers twisted in your sweater so hard your knuckles are stark white.

Because...because

_You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and you’re trying not to tell him you love him..._


End file.
